


Show Me My New Tastes

by wraithnoir



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Eye Trauma, M/M, Post-Ragnarok, Sibling Incest, brothers behaving unbrotherly, infinity war denial, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wraithnoir/pseuds/wraithnoir
Summary: After leaving behind the wreckage of Ragnarok, Loki and Thor have a brief respite to try to know one another again. They've each changed, even in the last few days. Loki wants to get to know how Thor's changed a little better.





	Show Me My New Tastes

“What is this?” Loki asked, voice slightly hoarse with exhaustion, gruffer sounding than it had been when he’d been a child fighting off sleep, though the same force was behind it. Thor had always been happy to give in at the end of the day; he could fill his hours with running and climbing and tumbling and training and laughing and eating and singing, and then when the lights dimmed and Asgard grew dark, he let his eyelids droop with the sun and cheerfully consigned himself to his golden bed and warm furs, content to dream new glories for tomorrow. Loki, on the other hand, fought against bedtime, hid from their mother, snuck out of his room to climb into Thor’s bed or to the library or out onto his balcony to drop things on unsuspecting guards below. Even when he was older, he would stay up all hours reading until sleep finally overtook him, a warrior falling where he’d fought. 

Now he lay beside Thor in the round bed that had been the Grandmaster’s not too long ago, with the slightly fuzzy sheets and gold blankets. Loki’s long, slim fingers traced the edges, then the raised design that ran over the slight curve of the eyepatch Thor now wore. It was, in fairness, the only thing he was wearing. Loki felt his brother tense, then force himself to relax, and it brought a faint smile to his mouth. 

“What is this?” he repeated.

Thor chuckled, and Loki could hear the self-conscious rumble of it, thunder without lightning. He raised his hand to the side of his face, strong fingers at his own temple though they did not stray over the patch.

“It’s an eyepatch, Loki,” he said unnecessarily, and with such mildness that Loki honestly wasn’t sure if he was being honest or facetious. He rolled his eyes eloquently before replying.

“Yes, I know it’s an eyepatch. And I know that Hela destroyed your eye, whether in a fit of genuine pique or irony, I suppose we’ll never know.” Loki let his finger trail over Thor’s eyebrow, traveling the length of it before touching the softer skin beneath it, just above the edge of the stiff patch. “But why? Why are you wearing it? A touch of dear old dad’s fashion?”

Thor half-heartedly tried to push Loki’s hand away, making a noise that was sort of a sigh though it wasn’t trying very hard to be that either.

“Well...no. I mean, the practicality of it’s the same. Nobody wants an empty eye socket staring them in the face.” Thor’s voice pushed that practicality he preached, though Loki wasn’t buying it. “It’s strange though. My depth perception is off; the fight on the Bifrost was more difficult than I’d thought. I mean...obviously we were fighting for our lives, but sometimes a punch wouldn’t land where I’d expected. Or lightning would strike...oh, slightly to the front of the line.”

“You’ll get used to that,” Loki commented lightly. “And everyone else will get used to the eyepatch. And the hair.” He made a face as his fingers shifted to trace Thor’s hairline, then followed the uneven tracks of shaved hair that led back from his temples. The hack job of someone shearing a sheep for slaughter, not style. “They’ve been ruled by an eyepatch with a bad haircut before.”

Thor’s laugh was harsh and brief, as though it had been pulled out of him. Loki smiled slowly, glancing past his brother’s face to the window. He wondered what Valhalla was like, where it was, if it was even real...if he would ever be welcome there. It was a realm of the glorious battle-dead Aesir. There was likely someone posted at the door to kick out unwelcome Frost Giants. Also, the chance of him dying gloriously in battle on the right side of things was marvelously slim. 

“The things you say, brother. We are mourning yet,” he scolded, though there wasn’t much heart in it.

“As though none can mourn with laughter,” Loki told him, still watching the cold stars. The room was quiet for a moment save for the rustling of sheets as Thor pulled Loki down to him again. “You still haven’t answered my question. Why wear it now? Why with me here?”

“Ah,” Thor made the noise against Loki’s bare shoulder. “That is what you meant. Have I not bared enough before you, that you would have that too? You see all my skin, all my scars...you can point out which ones you put there.”

“With love, always,” Loki demurred, sliding his hand against Thor’s side and remembering an arrow, a dagger, fangs, a poisoned dart. Blood on his hands. There were no apologies to make. Thor grunted, and it was hard to tell if he was laughing, arguing, or agreeing.

There was a little silence between them again. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Loki thought that Thor had given in to sleep, though he kept his own eyes open. They were scratchy and the lids heavy; there was no reason not to give in himself.

“I don’t wish to be grotesque before you,” Thor said quietly. His sudden words actually startled Loki; there was nothing worse than being caught awake by someone you’d already decided was asleep. 

“Grotesque?” Loki repeated. “A scar you earned in battle is something to be proud of, a tribute to your valor and survival.” He had his own, though fewer than most warriors in Asgard. He didn’t throw himself bodily into fights; there were other ways to engage, and better ways to win.

“This isn’t some cut from a sword, or a stab wound.” Thor’s explanation was quiet, and in the short pause Loki saw in his mind’s eye the little whitened star on Thor’s side that he himself had put there several years ago when they’d fought on Stark’s tower in New York. “It’s an empty hole. It’s...well, it’s grotesque.”

Without answering, Loki raised himself on one elbow and gently pulled the eyepatch away from Thor’s face, then dropped it to the floor beside the bed. Three lazy runes drawn in the air brought up soft light over them, offering him an unshadowed view of his brother’s face. On the left, Thor’s bright blue eye was wide, golden eyelashes framing his displeased surprise. On the right, the puckered lid was still bruised, and the delicate flesh around the socket was still reddened and raw. There was more healing to come.

“Loki-”

“Hush.” Loki brushed aside Thor’s half-raised hand, pushing it back against the mattress to hold his wrist down against the sheets. If he really wanted to, Thor could have thrown him off. If he wanted to, he could have lit this room up with lightning and fried him for touching without permission. But Loki never asked for permission, and Thor never bothered to look for an apology later.

Now he leaned over his brother, dark hair falling down around both their faces as though giving them privacy from the galaxy for just one moment. Loki kissed his mouth lightly, flicking his tongue against the spot he’d bitten and split earlier, then kissed his broad cheekbone. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end, electrified, as his mouth drifted upward. 

“Try not to electrocute me, hmm?” he murmured, the laugh audible in his smile. “And I promise not to stab you or bite you or anything like that.” 

“Loki.” Thor breathed his name the way ancient Midgardians did so long ago when they wanted his help figuring out a complicated issue or find their way on twisted roads. He hadn’t been prayed to in so long.

His lips brushed Thor’s eyebrow first, a slight miscalculation of distance. When his mouth was over the sunken lid, his mind flashed with curiosity, not disgust. The very tip of his tongue ran over the rim of eyelashes and he made a noise when the fine muscles twitched.

When he pulled back, his brother was staring at him still with that blue eye, as blue as the skies over Asgard that were gone forever. 

“What can I say?” Loki smiled, a flash of white teeth and lowered eyes. “I have unique and varied tastes. Don’t tell me what I’ll find grotesque, unless you’re trying to intrigue me.” He laughed with genuine pleasure when he was pulled back to the bed with all the fond violence Thor could draw up.


End file.
